Absolution
by Dr. Robin
Summary: Set during "All In The Family". One doctor bears the burden of responsibility for Carter and Lucy's attack-and ultimately, Lucy's untimely death.
1. Her Cross to Bear

**Hi-diddly-ho there! Well, this is the first story I've written in over five years...and I feel really weird posting this, 'cause I feel like it's not very good. I wanna proofread and add more stuff to it, but I really hope some of you like it at least! **

**"Be Still My Heart" and "All In The Family" are tied for my favorite episodes of **_**ER**_**, and I came up with the idea over two years ago; but then, I got writer's block. Now, I'm back writing again! But, like I said, I'm rusty...so please be kind.**

**Oh, another thing: this particular character is based on me, I guess (?)...and for more info, see my profile page.**

**Alright, let me know what you think! PM me or leave a review by clickin' on that blue rectangle down there (which, by the way, I don't like as much as the old one)! I'd really love to hear from you!**

**Love, Robin**

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**-Part 1-**

"**Her Cross to Bear"**

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_When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him._

~ Euripides ~

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**~ February 15, 2000; 1:50 a.m. ~**

She blames herself.

She should've seen this coming a mile away.

But she was busy. So was he.

Ninety-nine percent of the time, she's acutely aware of everything taking place downstairs—her second home.

The one time she lets her guard down...

...this happens.

Robin Shepherd stands behind the glass windows of the operating suite where Anspaugh and Benton work feverishly to repair the damage inflicted on Dr. John Carter. With one arm wrapped protectively around her stomach—as if preventing herself from shattering into a million pieces—and her other hand covering her mouth, she waits. Waits for something. Anything. Nervously, she shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she taps her fingers on her lips—breathing heavily and letting exhausted, desperate sighs of surrender escape her.

Step by agonizing step, she remembers, again, the discovery of her co-workers... Her friends.

_She stood at the nurses' station...only ten feet away...waiting on hold for someone to tell her when Psych would be down for the consult with Paul Sobriki. She was certain she had just seen DeRadd walking down the hallway, but she didn't want to hang up unless she was absolutely sure it was him. Having heard enough of the irritating, wordless muzak playing through the receiver, she hung up with a hushed expletive whispered under her breath as she began bobbing her head to a song she heard earlier that had come from the admit desk for the ER's annual Valentine's Day party. It was one of her favorite songs: _"Battleflag"_ by the Lo-Fidelity Allstars. _

_Nearby, she heard Kerry and Jing-Mei talking about some sort of "bare butt booty oil," which made her laugh as she mouthed the words to the song playing and updated a chart. She had never really concerned herself with the monotonous flow of charts that needed to be dealt with. She never seemed to mind the endless paperwork...she actually enjoyed it._

_Something in the air had shifted. _

_Something was wrong._

_Kerry's voice came out in an uncharacteristic yelp, and Robin saw the door to Curtain 3 closing. She dropped her pen and left her charts as she followed suit. The bloody footprint just outside the door made her burst into a run. _

"_Kerry?" she asked, flinging the door open. Dark, crimson puddles and streaks covered the black and white tiled floor. But she couldn't be sure. There were no lights on. The blinds were all closed. "What the hell...?"_

"_It's Carter and Lucy! Looks like they've been stabbed," Kerry informed with a desperate urgence—cracking and an octave higher than normal._

"_What?" she said, forcing her question out as she rushed over to Kerry. _

"_Lucy's on the other side of the bed, go check on her!"_

_Her head snapped over to where Kerry had just indicated, and she almost stumbled as she shot over to Lucy's crumpled form. She could immediately hear her breathing, checked her pulse, and talked to her young friend in a gentler tone. "Lucy? Lucy, sweetie, can you hear me?" Lucy's eyes twitched underneath their lids, but other than that, there was nothing. "Lucy, you hang in there," she said as she started to move to stand again. "Hang on, sweetie, we're gonna help you and John, okay?" Her words were met, this time, by Lucy's fingers slowly moving up and down...and nothing more._

_But this one silent gesture sent a wave of relief, however slight, coursing through her as she maneuvered back to Carter and Kerry. "How's he doin'?"_

"_Not so good at the moment," she answered—her statement tinged with anger and annoyance...but honest nonetheless. "I need you to get two backboards, C-collars—"_

"_I know, Kerry," Robin told her as she stood and headed toward the door, in an effort to keep her calm. "Get the trauma rooms ready, call Surgery and the blood bank for O-neg, and call the police. I'm on it." _

"_Go!" came Kerry's familiar authoritative voice._

_She paused, yanking the door open by the handle and looking back at the nightmarish scene in front of her. "Hang on, you guys!" she shouted back into the room and began to sprint down the hall toward admit. "Hang on..."_

Robin shudders with a sob that she keeps silent in her heart and runs a hand through her brunette hair in frustration, watching Shirley hang up the OR phone and talk to Dr. Benton. Something's happening. What? She doesn't know. Everything being said is muffled through the barriers standing in front of her. Even though his face is mostly covered by a surgical mask and cap, Peter's eyes hold the key to everything happening inside of him. Robin's adrenaline pumps uncontrollably as she watches him step away from Carter and toward the suite doors.

"What's wrong?" she asks, unlocking the vice grip she's been holding herself in for the past 45 minutes and stepping up to the visibly irate doctor.

"I've been called into another surgery," he says through clenched jaws, ripping off his mask and blood-soaked gloves, slamming them into a bio-hazard bag, and turning on his heel.

"Wh-wai—" she stammers, hesitant to leave her quiet vigil for Carter but catching up to him anyway. "You just came back a few minutes ago," she says, but gets nothing from Benton-just more silent anger. "What about John? Is he gonna be alright?"

Now in his full-on "angry swagger," as Robin likes to refer to it, Peter rounds the corner and stalks down the hallway. "He seems stable right now. Go check on Lucy, make sure she's alright. They just got to CT."

Slowing down near the elevators, she asks, "Are you sure, Pet—?"

"_Lucy_, Robin!" he states loudly, glancing over his shoulder and not slowing his stride.

She stands alone in the middle of the hall. Unsure of what to do, she turns toward the OR where Carter lays with his life hanging in the balance. She closes her eyes, saying a silent prayer and sending it to him and the rest of the staff in the room; and then, she takes off down the hall to the stairwell—knowing it will take too much time to wait on the elevator, even at this time of night.

She has to get to Elizabeth and Robert so they can tell her that everything's going smoothly.

She has to get to Lucy. She needs to get to Lucy. She hasn't seen her in nearly an hour and needs to let her know that she hasn't abandoned her. She's been running back and forth between John and Lucy all night, in some inadvertent way trying to tell them that she's sorry. That she should've done something different. That she should've been more attentive and listened. That she should've kept her guard up. That she should've been there.

She should've seen this coming.

She should've prevented this.

She should've taken the time.

And now...

...she is responsible for this...

...for everything.

For this is her cross to bear.

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_The crisis of our lives becomes a private nightmare._

~ Unknown ~

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**That one. Right down there. It's blue. It's not as cool as the old one. See it?**


	2. Barely Breathing

**For those of you who are actually reading this story, I thank you. Sorry it's been so long since I've updated; I've finished my prerequisite courses for nursing, and now I'm just waiting to get into the program; been lookin' for a job, which hasn't been easy because I'm so picky about where I wanna work; yada yada yada...! I can't tell you when the next chapter will be up-probably weeks, because writer's block IS NOT easy to get over (especially when you haven't posted anything in years)!**

**I still don't own ER, or any of the characters... Really wish I did though.**

**Anyway, here's the next installment. It's kinda long. Any mistakes are mine.**

**Enjoy.**

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**-Part 2-**

"**Barely Breathing"**

~*~ _Hope is a fragile thing. ~*~_

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_Even a man's fate, held true on course,_

_in a blinding flash rams some hidden reef;_

~ Aeschylus – _Agamemnon_, ln. 1007-1008 ~

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"What happened, you guys?" Robin questions, bursting into the CT control room. Her heart pounds loudly in her ears, all thanks to sprinting down the stairs...not to mention, her own pumping adrenaline—coursing through her veins like acid.

"She had sudden-onset chest pain," Romano tells her, glancing over his shoulder at the winded doctor and back to the computer screen.

"P.E.?" Robin asks and states simultaneously.

"That's what we're thinking," Elizabeth says. "Even Lucy thinks so."

The three colleagues stand huddled around the computer screen as the spiral CT renders new information second by second.

"There," Elizabeth points to the screen, "right pulmonary artery."

The team quickly splits up, with Robert speeding into the scrub room and giving orders in the process. "Yeah, get her to angiography for a filter, I'll meet ya there. Get the room ready."

Elizabeth and Robin step into the room where Lucy lays.

Kit informs them, "Chest and abdominal dressings are soaked through."

"Watch her BP," Elizabeth says, "and send off a hematocrit."

Robin's eyes fall on her battered friend, and all grows still. No talking. No sound. As Elizabeth takes her place on one side of Lucy, Robin takes her rightful place on the other—her eyes glazing over as she takes in the sight of the conflicting shades of red that spread over the center of Lucy's hospital gown from her chest down to her stomach. In this moment, she remembers noticing the amount of blood that Carter and Lucy both lost.

_As she raced from one trauma room to the other, that's when it hit her. Carter had been stabbed twice in the back. Large, dark stains could be seen on his light blue shirt; other spatters covered him, the gurney, and everyone working on him—including herself._

_But Lucy... Lucy appeared as though she had taken a bath in her own blood. She was engulfed with crimson and ruby from her four stab wounds. Her pale blue sweater, that Robin had even complimented her on earlier in the day, was now awash in a viscous red. There was so much blood, that even after the sweater was discarded, the red continued to stain Lucy's skin with tiny rivulets—snaking their way down her sides and dripping onto the sheet covering the gurney. The red even pooled in the hollow of Lucy's neck; there was so much, that it finally escaped by streaming down the crook of her neck and shoulder._

_Robin was struck by the raw fear and concern in Dave's voice for the first time since she'd come to know him—shaking, wavering with anger and desperation. "Look at this! __Look__ at this, Chief!" _

Dave's haunting tone echoes in Robin's mind as she steps over to Lucy and places a hand on her shoulder, offering her a genuine, warm smile. She sees her blue eyes soften ever so slightly, and they both turn their attention over to Elizabeth.

"Okay," the red-headed surgeon begins, trying to stay objective—like Lucy is another conventional patient, "there's just a little oozing from the incision. That happens with heparin." As the words spill from her mouth, she realizes this is no average patient. This is Lucy. Lucy Knight knows how heparin functions, she's no fool. Elizabeth continues, "Your BP is fine, and there's no major hemorrhage." Her voice softens a bit, "But, Lucy, the CT shows a pulmonary embolism. Don't worry: we're taking you to angiography, we'll put in a Greenfield filter, we'll reverse the heparin. However, you might need to have another transfusion."

Robin watches Lucy, taking in all that Elizabeth has just explained. Her eyes stare up at the ceiling. Her eyes clamp shut as she fights the tears that build. She's overwhelmed. Confused. Angry. Doubtful.

But, mostly...she's scared.

Elizabeth's timbre changes yet again—even gentler now, barely above a whisper. "Lucy? Are you with me?" She watches as her eyes finally open—her eyes now void of hope, not as blue as they were just seconds ago—and she nods in understanding. "I'll get you through this, alright?" she encourages, on the brink of tears herself.

Lucy's gaze meets Elizabeth's suddenly. She can barely bring herself to give any sort of response at the moment, because she can't truly believe that she'll make it at this point. She feels her head nodding, but she's convinced that it's just to reassure the two women standing next to her that she'll keep fighting. It's quick and almost too subtle, but it puts them at ease nonetheless.

Elizabeth offers a weak, but hopeful, grin, "Alright," and lays her hand atop Lucy's blonde hair—comforting her the best she can.

Robin's left hand stays on Lucy's shoulder, and she delicately takes her right hand in her own—feeling Lucy hold on to her, lightly and uncertain, as if she just needs to hold on tight enough to keep herself tethered to this world. To the here-and-now. To the friend and mentor who should've seen. Who should've noticed. The friend who should've protected her...and protected Carter. With tears welling and threatening to spill, all she can do is grin empathetically as she watches a single tear snake down from Lucy's closed eyes toward her hairline.

As Kit and another nurse bring in Lucy's gurney, Elizabeth steps away for the briefest of moments to help them place the bed next to the CT machine. With the loss of warmth and contact from Elizabeth, Lucy's grip on Robin's hand tightens suddenly.

Robin's hand feels as though it's trapped in a vice, but, truth be told, she doesn't give a damn. She would gladly let Lucy crush the bones in her hand if that meant she would keep fighting. Keep trying. Keep living. Lucy's eyes open as she takes a breath: in one fleeting moment, she has curled into herself again, looking impossibly like a lost child. Robin notices this and immediately she sees that look of uncharted concern in her young friend's blue orbs. As blue eyes meet hazel ones, the young attending's face lights up with a genuine smile, and her voice is nothing short of a whisper, "I've got ya... We're not goin' anywhere, Luce, just keep squeezin'."

Hearing her nickname, Lucy's eyes soften as a grin creeps across her pale face, and her grasp on her mentor's hand becomes impossibly tighter. Warmth and comfort run through her as she looks up at the older woman—her expression doing little to disguise how worried she is, and her maternal side showing through as she holds her wounded friend's hand with intent gentleness.

"Alright," Elizabeth says cheerily, or as much as she can manage at the moment, "let's get you to angiography, shall we?" She waits for Kit to move over next to Robin before she reaches over the gurney to grab hold of the sheet underneath Lucy, and then, the three women lift their young friend from the scanner—Robin, all the while, never letting her steady grip waver on Lucy's pale hand.

With the side rails raised, the brakes released, and the saline hung on the bed's IV stand, the short trip down the hall begins as another nurse joins the women in the hallway.

Lucy gazes up at the ceiling, watching the unflattering florescent lights above them slide up and out of her view, one after the next. The lights become a monotonous distraction as her mind begins to race—suddenly flooded with questions and feelings left unsaid.

Robin feels a squeeze of her hand and looks down. "What is it?" she asks gently.

Lucy struggles to mouth the one word that's been plaguing her ever since she awoke in recovery.

"Carter?" Robin asks.

Lucy nods as she feels tears begin to form.

Robin nods with a grin. "Well, he gave us a scare or two, but before I came down, it looked like they got him stabilized. Shirley pages me every now and then and gives me an update," she smiles, then adds, "He's gonna be okay... Don't worry so much." Her last four words aren't much louder than a whisper.

With a weight lifted off her shoulders, Lucy's tears finally escape as she closes her eyes and lets out a silent laugh. These tears aren't of sorrow or sadness, but of overwhelming relief and joy that her mentor and one-time romantic almost-fling was going to be alright in the long run. She knows that the man will put all of the blame on himself, even more so than Robin. He will internalize the sadness, the anger, the blame, the desire to turn back time and take her place, the self-hatred into something he has never faced before. Something dark... Damaging... Haunting... Life-altering.

As will Robin. The woman currently watching her with endearing care and compassion; holding her hand tightly, not wanting to let her go. Lucy knows that she already blames herself for everything that's taken place on this particular Valentine's Day. She knows that Robin would gladly take the burden of everyone's guilt onto her shoulders if it meant everyone else would move on and be able to forget. She knows that Robin, too, will internalize the responsibility and the outcome—whatever it may be, good or bad—and close herself off from her friends, her family, and the world. She's unfortunately seen her do it before.

Whatever may lay ahead seems a distant thought now as the women speed into the angiography suite—Kit relaying the latest vitals as Lucy's journey ends abruptly with the gurney's brakes put on. "BP's 112 over 78. Pulse 102."

"AC 14; title volume 600; 100 percent FIO2," Elizabeth orders. "Another two of Versd." Her eyes meet Lucy's as she tries to speak. "It's just to relax you a bit during the procedure."

As Lucy puts her hand in the air over her chest, she mouths, "I wanna stay—"

"You want to stay awake?" Elizabeth echoes. She sees the young student nod, and immediately she understands. "Okay, okay. I'm going to numb the inguinal area with lidocane and introduce a catheter into the femoral vein," she explains as she reads over the latest blood test results.

"I'll prep, get gowned," Romano tells the redhead as he walks over to the small group.

Elizabeth hands him the results, informing, "Spun crit is 32."

"Good. Go," he says—his patience starting to wane.

"I'll be right back, Lucy," the chipper surgeon tells her with an encouraging smile as she swiftly heads to the scrub room.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Romano sees Lucy's concern return in her weary blue eyes. "Don't worry, Ms. Knight. We've put _far_ too much time and energy into your training to lose you now," he says, turning his back to ready the instrument tray.

Lucy almost cracks a smile as she glances over to Robin, who shakes her head with a weak grin at the man's attempt at humor—especially at a moment like this. She continues to hear Romano's voice, only faintly now.

"Greenfield filters are a snap. Done about a hundred of 'em. I'll talk ya through it if ya like."

Robin watches as Lucy's eyes glaze over with something she can't quite put her finger on at the moment. She feels her squeeze her hand firmly as she stares up at the ceiling. Something changes. The faraway look in her young friend's now-glassy cobalt orbs makes her heart drop to the floor. One second seems to drag out into minutes and hours. _Something's wrong_. Robin's mouth is open, but she can't find the strength to say it. She wants to scream at the top of her lungs; to slap Lucy's pallid face and plead with her to keep hanging on. Keep fighting. Keep living. But, still, she remains paralyzed to this spot, watching as the ER's young protégé stares into something that no one else in this room can see. Perhaps it's that magnificent light at the end of the long, dark hallway so many patients speak about; or, at least, that's what Robin hopes for Lucy. As this tedious second comes to a close...

...The next brings absolute terror.

Robin sees Lucy's head tilt slightly to one side. Her haunting cerulean eyes disappear behind fluttering lids. The heart monitor blares its alarm. Her strong grasp on Robin's hand weakens, and her hand falls limply as Robin lets go of her for the first time.

"BP's down to 60, pulse ox 72," Kit says, raising her voice above the shrill beeping and droning that fills the room.

Romano turns on the overhead light as Robin lifts Lucy's eyelids open, checking for any response. "Lucy?" they utter simultaneously.

"_Lucy__?!" _Romano says, as he rubs his knuckles over Lucy's sternum forcefully. No response.

"No carotid pulse," Kit tells them.

"Dammit, she's thrown another clot," Romano curses and glances at Robin. "Start chest compressions," he tells her, not realizing that she's already one step ahead of him: stepping up onto a footstool, lacing her fingers together, and placing her palm on Lucy's chest. He gathers himself and continues, pointing to the other nurse, "You, get in here and bag her! Lizzie, I need ya now!"

Robin drowns everything out as she concentrates on bringing Lucy back. With each compression, her breath comes out in short, broken pants; her short brown hair falls into her eyes, still fixated on Lucy's cyanotic features—her lips becoming evermore ghostly blue and ashen; the realization that Lucy Knight will not survive this night chips away at her hope, which she has never truly lost but is now starting to gravely doubt. "Not now," she says in a strangled whisper—a quiet, restrained noise, almost whimper-like—as her words catch in her throat. "Dammit, not now...not like this..."

Romano steps up to her and overhears her, in mid-prayer. "Robin, step back."

"...Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Hail Mary..."

"Robin! Stop compressions and step _back_!" the short but burly surgeon puts a hand on her arm; when she stops but doesn't move away, he nearly lifts her off the stool as he raises his voice, "Step _back_!"

The world slowly comes back to her, and she moves away slowly as Romano nearly shoulders her in the chest and proceeds to cut Lucy's hospital gown open, revealing the incision that runs from the top of her sternum to her navel.

"Gimme a staple remover!" Romano orders, snapping his fingers at Kit and the other nurse, "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! Right now! Pour some betadine on her chest."

"You're gonna open her right here?" Kit asks in surprise.

"She won't make it to the OR," Romano states, releasing the staples along Lucy's chest as quickly as he can move.

Kit tells the other nurse, "Call the unit, tell 'em we need two more nurses!"

Suddenly, Elizabeth bursts back into the room and asks with panic evident in her voice, "What happened?"

"She's in PEA. Stand by with some wire cutters," Romano says, removing the last of the staples' hold on Lucy's flesh.

"Wire cutters?" Kit inquires.

Elizabeth stands at the ready with the instrument and tells her in a quivering voice, "We wired the damn breastbone together."

Memories of earlier in the night begin to blur at the edges as Robin's mind is flooded with images that play like home movies watched on an old projector and sounds that echo and warble inside her head and ears. She stands at Lucy's feet, watching the two surgeons she admires so deeply desperately race to keep the life of this wonderful young woman they've grown to love like a sister tethered to this world.

_As she savored the delicious, but oddly discolored, blue Valentine's Day cake and her favorite neopolitan ice cream, Robin sat on the admit desk between two computer screens—swinging her legs to the beat of the pounding music flowing from the stereo. _

"_I think we have a bigger knife in the lounge," Lily raised her voice to answer someone's question from behind her._

"_Lucy hasn't sutured that leg lac yet?" Carter asked, having just joined in on the fun._

_And almost instantly, Robin's attention was turned to Dave's dancing. That was the last genuine laugh that had fallen from her lips that night._

_Randi had walked cautiously into Trauma 2 and, for the first time since Robin had known her, struggled to find her words as she saw Lucy's bloodied body clinging to life. Her voice wavered as she fought to maintain her strength._

"_Handle__ it, __Randi__," Kerry had demanded sharply—her focus entirely on Lucy._

"_How long was the blade?" Mark asked. No one knew. No one answered._

_Everyone watched in silence as Elizabeth brought the scalpel from above Lucy's sternum all the way down to her upper stomach, slicing through her flesh with ease even though her hand was shaking ever so slightly. Small splashes of blood peppered her pale skin as vessels were cut. _

_Kerry tested the sternal saw once; then, leaving her finger on the trigger, she took a quick breath and brought the instrument down. Her hand shook violently as she carved through the midline of the obstructing bone. Her breath shook as she fought off a torrent of emotion._

_Mark's brow furrowed at the loud screech that filled the room. He almost looked away, but, for some reason, he kept watch._

_24 hours before that moment, Dave would've been exhibiting his usual hutzpa with the whole procedure—even asking if he could perform it himself; but Robin watched as he fell silent: his brow creased and his expression telling of his utter disgust as he turned his head away, his jaw muscles rippling as he clinched his teeth together in anger. It was too much for him. Especially when Robin realized that she had planted the seed in his mind a few weeks beforehand that he and Lucy had a "spark" between them, as she put it. Dave had actually grinned and laughed shyly—something he hadn't done before, at least in front of her._

_She wondered if he was thinking of the remote possibility of Lucy meaning more to him than he ever realized. Of what could be...or what could've been._

"_People are having a party while these two are in there bleeding to death,"_ she hears Kerry's voice echo within her as she remembers how she felt in that moment. Robin knows that older attending meant everyone working that night; but she can't help but feel barbs now as those same words snake around her heart and mind, tightening with every shock being delivered with the internal defibrilator paddles in Elizabeth's hands.

"Charge again, 100 of lidocane!" Elizabeth says loudly—her voice quivering. "Clear!"

"_People are having a party while these two are in there bleeding to death."_

"No!" Romano says sternly with a swift shake of his head.

"Again!" Corday hesitates. "Clear!"

"_People are having a party while these two are in there bleeding to death." _Seeing the silent conversation between the two surgeons, Robin shifts her gaze down and somehow manages to move her hand to rest on Lucy's right foot. Apart from this, she does not move.

"Clear!"

"_People are having a party while these two are in there bleeding to death."_

"Asystole," Romano says, as the erratic beeping slowly turns into a constant drone. That drone that sends a chill down any medical professional's spine. A drone signifying nothing.

"Amp of atropine," Elizabeth orders.

"When was the last epi?" Romano asks.

Kit informs them, "Four minutes ago."

"Push another 7 milligrams, _now_!" Corday meets Romano's intense gaze. She's exhausted...but she can't stop. Her voice almost cracks as she forces out, "Clear!"

"_People are having a party while these two are in there bleeding to death."_ The room seems to spin incessantly as Robin sees Kit and the other nurse run out for some reason—probably to retrieve more supplies. Then...the world stops. The three doctors stand idle as their strength, energy, and hope are destroyed while the drone carries on amidst their silence.

"Alright, that's it—we've done everything we can..." Robert says, sounding defeated but trying to be the voice of reason. He slowly removes his hands from around Lucy's fragile heart. "Holding compressions..."

With this, the effects of Romano's attempts quickly dissipate...and Lucy's body shuts down completely. The drone of the heart monitor becomes even more piercing than before, if that's even possible. They all stand static—scared, angered, vulnerable: Elizabeth with the paddles still gripped in her blood-covered, gloved hands, staring down at her young friend; Robert with his crimson-colored hands raised in surrender and exhaustion; Robin with her hazel eyes glazed with unshed tears and her hand still resting on her friend's blanketed foot.

"Oh, man..." Robert breaks the silence as he hears the change in the siren of the monitor—closing his tired eyes for only a moment.

Both women flinch as the emotional surgeon overturns the instrument tray beside him, slinging whatever was left on it onto the floor and counters—coming dangerously close to striking Robin, although she could really care less at the moment.

"Son of a bitch..." Robert curses as he now stands near a counter behind Robin. "No," he stills momentarily, shakes his head in denial and anger, and bolts back to Lucy's side. "No. No. Let's give another minute for the last epi to circulate. Charge to 30, let's go," he orders, replacing his hands around the young woman's heart and resuming compressions.

Elizabeth can't, and won't, move.

"C'MON, _LIZZIE_, _LET'S_ _**GO**_!" Robert screams frantically, glancing at the redhead for the briefest of seconds, and then, watching Lucy's lifeless face.

"Robert." Elizabeth's voice gives way to emotion, letting him know that it's over.

Romano keeps squeezing the still organ, but he eases his efforts—knowing his colleague is right.

There is nothing more that can be done. They have exhausted every possible resource: medications, fluids, surgery, procedures. They have all tried to best of their abilities, but they can do nothing else. There is nothing.

"Call it," Robert says quietly, resting his gloved hands on the bed at Lucy's side and bracing himself.

The infernal drone suddenly ends as the monitor's alarm is shut off.

Elizabeth looks up at the clock with tears flooding her blue eyes, "Time of death, 2:56." She looks back to Lucy, gently puts down the defibrilator paddles in resignation, and braces herself—much like Robert—on the bed next to Lucy as she hangs her head.

Robin stands unmoving...and forever broken.

* * *

_I felt a Cleaving in my Mind — _

_As if my Brain had split — _

_I tried to match it—Seam by Seam_

_But could not make them fit._

_The thought behind, I strove to join_

_Unto the thought before — _

_But Sequence raveled out of Sound_

_Like Balls—upon a Floor._

~ Emily Dickinson – "I felt a Cleaving in my Mind — " ~

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**There it is, you guys! Leave a review, and let me know what you think. I love it when I get feedback!**

**Is it just me, or is the new alert/story/favorite section kinda confusing? I'm just sayin'... ~:/**


	3. Jaded

**Hey again! I'm happy to see that my story has some followers/favorites/alerts and a few reviews! I really love all of you who are reading, even the silent readers! On with the next chapter!**

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**-Part 3-**

"**Jaded"**

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_Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing more difficult than understanding him._

~ Fyodor Dostoevsky ~

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As the elevator descends toward the ER, Robin stands awkwardly—leaning heavily against the side wall; hugging herself with both arms in a desperate attempt to keep herself from crumpling to the floor in a jaded, sobbing heap; her eyes lifeless, red-rimmed, and staring at nothing except the cold metal doors in front of her.

She doesn't remember leaving the angiography suite, let alone boarding the elevator itself. All she can recall is hearing Romano say he'd be down in a few minutes to speak to the police, gladly taking that responsibility off of Robin's shoulders.

And so here she stands. The world has taken on a lackluster appearance. No life. No reason. No normalcy. No hope. The murky, shadowy haze that once plagued her as a teenager and young adult has now re-emerged with a vengeance: merciless, unrelenting, and all-consuming.

_Hello...Robin..._

She can't be sure when she heard this warbled, distorted voice before. Fourteen years ago? Fifteen? She thought it to be the result of overwhelming stress in college as she prepared to move on to medical school—perhaps her conscience trying to tell her to slow things down, not let life slip through her fingers... To live in the moment.

_You know who I am..._

It's been too long. If she were ill, it wouldn't lay dormant for over a decade-and-a-half and then suddenly emerge with no warning. She closes her eyes and shakes her head in hopes that she'll stave off a much-unwanted decay in her mental health.

The elevator doors slide open, and much to her dismay, Robin knows she has to move. She almost can't make herself. Every muscle in her lean frame is stressed to the point of exhaustion. With her left arm still snaked around her mid-section, she uses her right to push herself from the wall as her feet begin to miraculously walk her out of the smothering, confining trap.

Curtain 3 greets her, but now it is infinitely different than before.

Yellow police tape crossing the doors...

Blockades keeping out everyone other than law enforcement...

Detectives surveying, taking notes and pictures, conversing with officers...

Cops. Everywhere.

A voice.

"Robin, what's going on upstairs?"

It sounds like Weaver. She looks away from the horrors of the room, seeking out the source.

She's standing in the middle of the main hallway now, not knowing how she got there.

Weaver's concerned gaze is met with one of utter confusion and despair. She's seen Robin depressed before, but her face... So many emotions and thoughts are swirling in the young doctor's mind, but the moody redhead, for the first time, can't put her finger on what it is she's actually peering into: anger? Disarray? Hopelessness? Regret? Forgiveness? Self-destructive sorrow? ...She doesn't have an answer.

Taking a breath, she finds her words once again as she puts an arm around her colleague and moves her into the small walkway between Curtain 1 and the nurses' station. "I don't know if anyone informed you while you were upstairs...but Sobriki was involved in an MVA a few hours ago."

Hearing the mere mention of the man's name sends a chill down Robin's spine, and she seems to find her ground—her face changing.

"His only major injuries were a collapsed lung and a few lacs, but other than that, he's...medically stable. We had to give him Haldol... He was pretty...combative..." Weaver's voice trails off, not know what else to say to her friend.

"So..." Robin starts, taking her pointed gaze away from the woman for a moment and clearing her throat quietly, "...he's alive." It's more of a feeble statement than a question.

"Yeah," Weaver answers, looking down at her shoes. She misses Robin's eyes wandering over to the trauma rooms and the hallway leading to the suture room, searching for a glimpse of him.

"Where is he?"

Weaver looks back to her sharply, and then...she sees it. Uncontrollable rage. Robin's eyes almost quiver with it. Her brows slightly furrowed, her jaw set. "What?" she asks. "You don't need t—"

"Kerry, where is he?" the brunette fumes, not giving a damn how loud her voice is or who hears.

Before she can stop herself, Kerry sounds defeated as she tells, "Exam 2."

As Weaver begins to argue against it, Robin moves quickly away toward the room with a renewed vigor in her step. Reaching the doors, she sees a woman, whom she assumes is Paul's wife, walking up to him and kissing his head. While she feels sorry for her and her baby that they're being put through this, at the same time, she feels a tinge of hatred. How could she not see it? How could she not know?

Without thinking, she decides to barge in uninvited.

Determined hazel eyes meet paranoid brown.

She can feel all eyes on her as she stands awkwardly behind Mark, having interrupted Dr. DaRadd in the midst of his evaluation. She wants nothing more than for someone to continue.

The agonizing pressure lifts momentarily as Paul's wife, Samantha, breaks the silence and loses the battle with her tears. "Paul," she asks, nearly whispering, "what happened?"

"They took my clothes," the disturbed man squeaks out, "and they took my shoes..."

"Who took your clothes, Paul?" DeRadd calmly questions.

Robin watches as Paul's demeanor gains a hint of irritation. His eyes meet hers. "Them." That single word is evidence enough for Robin, but the psychiatrist pushes on.

"Who's 'them?'"

Paul looks back to his struggling wife, and suddenly appears to be that of a scared child—looking for someone...anyone...to comfort him. "They had...a-a blue cake."

Mark and Robin inwardly cringe at his observation. Robin remembers Lucy briefly mentioning her discovery of their patient as they passed in the hallway earlier in the evening—shortly before her brief spat with Carter.

She should have stopped this...should have seen the red flags... The blaring sirens of warning...

DeRadd drives on. "Is that where you got the knife?"

"They were gonna open me..." Paul whimpers.

"Paul," DeRadd insists, "where did you get the knife?"

"They-they were gonna take my organs..." the man tells his wife, on the verge of tears.

"What organs?"

"My _internal_ organs!" Paul turns his head to the three doctors—clearly angry now.

The room falls quiet.

Robin's brows knot, and her own anger grows.

"Don't you understand?" Paul's voice drips with desperation and anger. "I-I had to protect them!" He raises his voice as he squirms against the restraints, "Don't try to tell me I don't know, because I _know_!" The troubled man now shows another side of himself: a side filled with contempt and madness. "They were trying to _take_ them, and I had—I had to _**stop**_ them!"

Something deep inside her, something intrinsic, has shifted. Watching with rising emotions, Robin suddenly speaks—her voice holding a warning edge, "Then why didn't you wait for _me_?"

All eyes are on her. Some heads turn and stop on a dime, and she knows that she's touched a nerve.

Dr. DeRadd knows what she's getting at. "Dr. Shepherd—"

"**No," **she forces, with a piercing stare at the trapped young man, "why didn't you finish the job, Paul? ...Hm?" She sees the emotions swirling behind his eyes: confusion, fear, anger, desperation...among other things.

"Robin, stop," Mark stands and faces her, having finished his sutures.

"No," she repeats herself, stepping to the side as Mark has obstructed her view. Her eyes never wander from the ill man, because she wants to have his full, unwavering attention. Her mouth hangs agape as she searches for words, and she starts shaking her head slightly—unable to control her building emotions. "You don't have _any_ idea...what you've done, do you?" she asks, almost more of a statement than an actual question. Her mouth finally closes and her jaw sets, feeling seven kinds of hate towards this sick man. Burning tears begin to rise—picturing John and Lucy, slathered in blood...broken...helpless... "If I _ever_...see your face again...in this hospital..." Robin says calmly, but effectively, "I won't take pity on you—"

"Okay, that's enough," Mark tells her, raising his voice to match hers.

And like a flash of lightning, her mood changes from somewhat resigned to just this side of belligerent.

"—just like _you_ when you _**butchered**_ my friends. My _**family**_!" She's started talking with her hands now, pointing at him with emphasis. Her voice quivers with turbulent rage as she pushes Mark's hand away, trying to lead her out of the room. "You _**killed**_ one of my _**friends**_, you son of a _**bitch**_! And I swear to _God_...if I ever see you again...I'll _**kill**_ you!"

"Dr. **Shepherd**, you _cannot_ threaten a patient's life! Now, come with me!" Mark shouts over her and drags her to the door.

She continues to fight against the taller man, still holding Paul's gaze—her voice and eyes brimming with conviction. "That's not a _threat_! **THAT** is a _**PROMISE**_!"

As Robin continues to struggle with Mark, Dr. DeRadd steps aside, asking, "Is he ready?"

Mark, halfway out the door, tells him with a tone of disdain, "Yeah. You wanna take him upstairs?" He sees his colleague nod and leaves him to whatever he must do next. As the door closes behind him, Robin makes one last-ditch effort to gain the upper hand—wrenching her arm out of his hands with one swift swing, while a murderous hostility emanates from her most essential self.

"Get your _**FUCKIN**__**' **_hands _**OFF**_ me!" she screams, her voice sounding strangled and hoarse. Her voice is not her own.

Mark takes a strong hold of Robin's shoulders, holds her out at arm's length, and stoops down to her line of vision. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks, his expression and voice filled with concern.

And suddenly...nothing...

He sees the younger woman, looking somewhere past exhaustion, transform before his very eyes: her eyes go from daggers, to concerned, to confused in only a matter of milliseconds. He sees the horror that she is unable to control. The anger that she won't suppress. The tears that she doesn't want to repress. Her once-bright hazel orbs appear dead and dark, not being able to look at anyone or anything in particular—darting about incessantly. Her brows arch upward as she seems to want to convey...something. Anything. Some semblance that she's still in her own mind...

Maybe not her _right_ mind...but _her_ mind, nonetheless.

Mark watches her hazel pools slide over toward the nurses' station, and he follows.

Both see Dr. Weaver, unsteady on her feet, as she sits down at the station desk. She places her crutch against the desk...and simply sits and stares. Her face pale, her eyes wide, her heart broken.

Dr. Romano stands in the hallway talking with one hand, while the other rests on his hip—informing one of the many police officers about the past few hours' events.

The four doctors' eyes meet almost immediately...but only for a moment. Romano turns his attention back to the cop; Weaver sits there with a sad, far-away look in her eyes; Greene looks back to Shepherd, who's fragile stare takes him by surprise—tears running freely now down her cheeks and soaking into her green scrub top.

Mark's features soften, the questions passing silently between them:

_What happened upstairs? Are Lucy and Carter okay? Why are you acting this way? ...Are _you_ okay?_

_How will Carter handle this? How will I handle this? How will we all handle this? Why didn't I stay on top of everything? Why couldn't it have been just me instead of John and Lucy? Why did this happen to them...of all people? How are people going to cope with this holiday every year from now on? Will we cease to celebrate it...to acknowledge it at all? Will some of us close ourselves off every February? Will we put up barriers around our heart? Push people away? Can we move on? Can we learn from this? Can we recover? ...Can _I_ ever accept this? ...Can _I_ cope? ...Can _I_ learn from this? ...Can _I_ recover? ...Can _I_ move on?_

_...Will I ever be okay?_

"Robin..." Mark says with soft urgency, his eyes trained on his friend's unsettling face. "What happened?"

The young attending seems taken aback...not sure she understands the question. Her jaw muscles rippling as she fights her impending breakdown. She swallows hard and opens her mouth...but she can't speak. Her words freeze in her throat_._ There's no air. She feels confined... hears what seems to be the beginning of a sort of painful, strangled groan that sounds nothing like her erupt from deep inside her chest. It takes a great deal of energy just to simply say her name...

"Lu-Lucy..." Robin lets out a choked sob, releasing the breath she didn't realize she was holding—just barely bringing the name to life with an air of finality. The air rips from her lungs as she slowly begins to weep, violently clutching and pulling at her crimson-stained scrub top. Her chest is aching and throbbing and burning so painfully she can hardly see straight.

Mark is forced to let her go and watch her slowly walk toward the admit desk. The sounds of her heart-wrenching cries keep him chained to his spot, knowing that what has happened has left his dear friend shattered. The physical expression of her unraveling is the worst. He and the rest of the ER has seen her cry before, but for others, never for herself. On this night, he watches as she cries for everyone...especially John. Everyone who was lucky enough to have been touched...changed in the slightest way by knowing Lucy Knight. There is simply nothing he can do now except watch her from afar. His own despair over the night's events prevents him from being able to comfort anyone at the moment. He must find his own way.

Robin reaches the desk with one hand, again, wrapped protectively around herself, while the other grabs hold of the edge. She doubles over, almost as if she's about to vomit. Is it pain? Exhaustion? Or is it something entirely different? Or a culmination of everything? Even Robin herself isn't sure at this point. She seems to wilt and lean against the desk for stability; and finally, after stuffing all of her despair over the past hours deep within her...

...She surrenders—sinking down against the desk, pulling her knees up to her chest, and crying so intensely that it's visceral...gut-wrenching...all-consuming.

Chuny hesitantly moves to her and cradles the trembling woman as best she can—trying to calm her, quiet her, soothe her. As she continues to rub soothing circles on her back, she can barely hear over Robin's crushing sobs, the mumbling of two disturbing words...over and over again...

"Lucy's dead..."

* * *

_The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary. Men alone are quite capable of every wickedness._

~ Joseph Conrad ~

* * *

_I wept — laughter died that day..._

_I wept, pouring out the tears behind my veils._

~ Electra (Aeschylus – _Agamemnon_; lns. 435-436)

* * *

**Only two more chapters to go! Those of you who like my story, try checkin' out my other ones-especially "Reckoning" and "End." I'd love it if you did! Till next time, everyone! 3**


	4. Good Souls

**Bonjour, everyone! Here's the next chapter, hope you all like it! A big thanks to all who are reveiwing/following/favoriting the story! Love you lots!**

* * *

**-Part 4-**

"**Good Souls"**

~*~_ "I live in the weak and the wounded." _~*~

* * *

_I said: 'I toil beneath the curse,_

_But, knowing not the universe,_

_I fear to slide from bad to worse;_

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson – "The Two Voices" (lns. 229-231) ~

* * *

_An all-encompassing blackness. Glorious feelings of weightlessness and freedom, suspended in some odd, timeless, motionless space full of nothing. Air crisp, clear, and calming. Floating. No worry. No tension. No grief. No sadness. No responsibility. No guilt._

_Suddenly, a slight heaviness. A familiar voice...a woman. The illusion of freedom crumbles: chains seize, tugging gently at first, and then pulling violently. Fighting against them is futile as they wrap around wrists and ankles, slithering up along arms and legs until they engulf the entire body. This metal shroud winds and coils tighter with every labored breath. Eventually...no movement. Screaming is useless, because there is no rustle of noise to be heard. No fearful cry can be made anyway...the air is sucked away, as if in a vacuum. Falling...spinning...plummeting toward...something. Somewhere—_

**_(The song _"Ain't No Sunshine" _can be heard.)_**

"Rob?"

The young doctor's body jolts as she feels a hand on her arm and a voice saying her name for the third or fourth time. Her tired eyes snap open, which quickly blinds her. "Aw...shit..." she mutters groggily as she puts a hand over her eyes. She can hear music, one of her favorite songs, as her rapid heartbeat disappears from her ears—a feeling she loathes with a passion. Taking a deep breath, she drops her hand to the table and cracks open her eyes as Carol slides into the booth across from her with a piping-hot cup of coffee in her hands and a goofy smirk on her face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you like that," Carol tells her with a small laugh.

"S'okay..." Robin trails off, just barely bringing the words to life as she struggles to regain her bearings. Her eyes drift over to the window, frosted now with the light snowfall outside. When she came into Doc Magoo's, she had no intention of falling asleep with her chin in her hand and slumping against the wall with her head leaning against the window's molding. "What time is it?" she asks absent-mindedly.

Carol's expression grows worrisome at her friend's lack of emotion. "Uh, it's almost nine," she answers, glancing at her watch. Feeling the palpable tension rolling off of her friend in waves now, she tries to lighten the mood. "Thought I'd come here to get my usual brown bean fix," she says with a smile. Robin seems uncharacteristically distracted, far away in her mind. Carol looks into her eyes, and they aren't the normal hazel orbs she's used to; they've become empty, hollow, and cold. When she gets nothing in return—apart from a blasé, robotic half-grin—she decides to push her a little. "Robin, what's wrong? Nadine says you've been sitting here for hours."

Robin's memory bursts into overdrive, remembering everything. Every minute detail of the last 12 hours. Blood. Tears. Screams. Sorrow. Anger. Helplessness. Loss.

"_Lucy... Is that Lucy?" "Is he conscious? _Is_ he _conscious_?! Roll him, let me see...__oh__, man." "I was just talking to him." "People are having parties while these two are in there bleeding to death." "Look at this. __Look__ at this, Chief!" "How long was the blade?" "Thank you." "__**C'MON**__, LIZZIE, LET'S __**GO**__!" "Time of death, 2:56."_

Carol watches as Robin's hazel orbs begin to dart around, watching her remember something unspeakable. That's when she sees it: tears welling up, the edges of her eyelids taking on a red hue, and the corners of her mouth turning downward. The silence is agonizing, so she decides that she needs to stop it in its tracks. "Talk to me," she says gently. "What happened last night?"

Still slumped on the wall, Robin doesn't have the strength to move. All she can do is close her eyes and try to stave off her tears long enough to break the news. Taking a steadying deep breath, she opens her weary eyes, clears her throat weakly, and begins, "What all do you know?"

Carol sees her friend's strength falter, and she tries to remember every vague clue she's heard so far—which isn't much. "I know two people got hurt in Curtain 3, because of all the cops and the fact that it's sealed off... I saw the blood on the floor... Mark said we'd talk about it later, but 'later' hasn't come yet. Everybody's quiet... So other than that, and the fact we're short a doc and a med student, I don't really know anything else—"

"Ah," Robin says suddenly, pointing at Carol—not having the resolve to even lift her arm from the table. Her eyes heat up as she glances at the raven-haired nurse, tears threatening to fall with just this one syllable escaping her lips, but she soldiers on. "A doc and a med student."

Carol seems confused, shaking her head as she tries to follow Robin's train of thought. She glances outside to the ambulance bay, and then, something clicks. "That's who got hurt," she states as she returns her gaze to her friend.

Robin nods feebly.

"Oh, my God...who was it?"

The young doctor struggles to form any sort of words as she fights against the memories and the tears. "D'you remember a patient from yesterday named Sobriki?" She cringes as the sound of his voice fills the air around them both.

"The guy with the headache, yeah. He was Carter and Lucy's...patient..." she trails off. Her heart drops to the floor, realizing just who it is Robin's referring to. It's no wonder that her friend seems so distracted; so empty; so lost. "Are they alright?"

"That son of a bitch..." Robin starts suddenly, taking Carol by surprise with her startling, but quiet, mood swing. Her voice breaks every now and again, shaking with emotion—rage and overwhelming sadness battling for dominance, with each clearly written on her face; pain filling every word. "...He took that _knife_ that we were gonna..._cut_ the cake with...and he stabbed Lucy _four_ times..." As she forces the words out of her mouth, clenching her teeth together until it hurts, the first rogue tear falls from her lashes—not even bothering to streak down her face. She feels Carol reach across the table and place a gentle hand on her own—watching her intently. Her breathing becomes heavy and uneven. "Then...he w-_waited_ for Car—...for John... He stabbed him _twice_ in the back... I was _**right**_ down the hall. I was..._thirty_ feet away, _**standing**_ there...working on my last two charts... And then...then, I heard Kerry cry out, and—"

Carol watches Robin's tears fall freely now, streaking her fair cheeks. She feels Robin's hand start to tremble beneath her own and is surprised when Robin takes back her hand; bringing it up, and then, resting the back of her knuckles against her own lips—visibly, and violently, trembling at the wrist. Carol sees her friend brace herself on the table with her other hand, and she immediately covers it with both of hers. With her own tears beginning to fall, Carol tries to stay connected. "Robin, how are they? Are they gonna be okay?"

A choked sob escapes Robin's throat, covering her eyes and shaking her head incessantly. "John's gonna be on crutches for a few months," she starts, "and he'll have a colostomy for about a month." She breathes and laces her hand through her hair, trying to brace herself.

"What about Lucy?" Carol asks.

She doesn't answer; the question lingers.

Robin shudders with a sob that she keeps silent within her heart; and then, vicious emotions erupt almost immediately at the mention of her name. She starts to shake uncontrollably against the cold that's seeping through her bones. She tries her hardest to keep still but can't find anything warm to prevent her shivering. It scares both of them that she's cold; it's seventy-five degrees inside the diner. She slowly shakes her head, again, never stopping; her brows shoot upward; her eyes clamp shut, but tears still stream down; her jaw clenches; her hand grabs hold of her hair, almost ripping the thick, dark brown strands from her scalp; her body seems to writhe in some unseen torture that she herself can only feel.

"Robin, how's Lucy?" Carol asks, almost certain of the answer because of her friend's heartbreaking appearance.

That name. Her name. Lucy.

"_She's __dead__—" _Robin's desperate voice sobs out, "Lucy's _dead_, Carol—"

The impact of these two words takes their breath away. Even though Carol felt that answer coming, the revelation still leaves her reeling. Silently, she gets up and moves to sit next to Robin on the other side of the table. She sees her forlorn pal tense as she takes her seat with a shuddering sigh and decides to just be here for her; but she does reach out and take her hand in both of hers, holding it with intent gentleness. Robin's grip is vice-like, squeezing her friend's hand like a lifeline, but Carol could give less than a damn—feeling tears of her own begin to well up and slide down her cheeks.

Carol immediately remembers, and regrets, how she treated the young, eager blonde medical student when she first arrived a year-and-a-half ago. She laments now that she treated her the way she did with her passive-aggressiveness, barbed comments and looks, and downright indifferent attitude toward Lucy. But until this moment, she never realized how much Lucy had matured and excelled at her job, her personal life, and her own self in general. Remembering when she was on maternity leave over the holidays, Luka had told her about Lucy going toe-to-toe with Romano over her patient and friend, Valerie Page.

"_I have a patient, Valerie Page; 24 years old, dying of cardiomyopathy. She's on the UNOS list, but an L-VAD could buy her valuable time."_

"_What makes you think I __give__ a rat's ass?"_

"_I'm sorry. What was I thinking __coming__ to __you__, a seasoned doctor who __supposedly__ has dedicated his __entire__ life to __helping__ people; while I'm just a puny medical student who is stupid enough to think that she can actually make a—"_

"_Ms. Knight? What do you want?"_

"_I want you to help my patient... I want you to help me."_

He had told her about the talk they had had after Valerie had tragically stroked out after receiving her new heart; and now, the words Lucy expressed to the brooding, caring Croatian doctor seem so ironic...and horribly tragic—as if Lucy had known that her life was about to come to an untimely end.

"_Then, what were you doing here all day?"_

"_Not enough, as it turns out... It's never been very easy for me to be here. Sometimes I felt like I would never fit in."_

"_That's something I know about. But, then, I-I've moved around a lot, and now I'm used to it."_

"_But at the beginning of every day, I've been grateful that I'm walking in here, on my own choosing and not carried in on some gurney. And at the end of every day, if I've helped just one person, it's been worth it... And that didn't happen today, and it makes me sad."_

"_Hey, your day's not over... Maybe this is your one person."_

"_I doubt it."_

"_Yes, but uh...let's see if I'm right, huh?"_

Carol recalls telling Luka that she was proud of Lucy; and now, in this bleak moment, she wishes like hell that she'd said those words to Lucy personally.

As her memories fade into the back of her mind, Carol looks over to Robin—who's still weeping uncontrollably, mournful tears staining her face, but more quietly now. She knows how close the two women were; how each thought of the other as the sister they never had. Robin has always been the symbol of strength, friendship, and comradery in the County General family: taking the students and younger residents under her wing, encouraging and guiding them through the ER Experience, and being their professional and emotional sounding board. It seems as though she was born with an innate urge to save everyone. Peaceful yet strong. Gentle yet courageous.

But looking at her now, Carol realizes that Robin is crumbling from the inside out...so defeated. She's never seen her friend this devastated before—crying unabashedly with choking sobs and shaking breaths until it physically hurts, in public no less. The tragic sadness and gravity of the past twelve hours have changed this charming and intimate doctor with an undefinable quality into someone already distancing herself from her family, friends, and the world; tormented with a tremendous burden of guilt that she will undoubtedly insist on carrying alone.

"It'll be okay, Rob..." she offers quietly, a single tear trickling down her face before she wipes it away. "It's not your fault."

"No, ...Carol. No—" Robin's voice breaks and her body trembles, still tugging at her hair that's fisted in her hand and helplessly shaking her head—her face twisted in silent pain.

With fresh tears falling, Carol raises her gaze toward Robin and puts up a brave front: wearing a small, comforting smile and slowly nodding her head—knowing full well that Robin can't see her, but that, more than likely, she can somehow feel her delicate confidence for the future. "It'll be okay, Rob... Eventually, everything will work itself out..." Carol whispers, hoping to God that Robin's listening and believing the words that she herself isn't quite sure are true. She takes a steadying breath, smiling again as a tear travels down her fair skin, "We'll get through it... We'll make it."

* * *

_Be near me when my light is low,_

_When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick_

_And tingle; and the heart is sick,_

_And all the wheels of being slow._

_Be near me when I fade away,_

_To point the term of human strife,_

_And on the low dark verge of life_

_The twilight of eternal day._

~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson – "In Memoriam" (L; lns. 1-4, 13-16) ~

* * *

**Well, only one more chapter to go! Please, read and reveiw! Tell me what you like about it...stuff like that!**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE OUT THERE! 3**


	5. Left Behind

**Well, here it is: the final chapter! I'm sorry it took so long for me to finish this. It's weird, because I have to be a certain level of depressed to write (99% of the time), and lately I've been too depressed! Anyway... I have more stories written, but I just never thought they were good enough to post; and now that I've kind of completed my series, I feel like if I post any more, it might just confuse people about where it fits in at. I'll post more if you want, you just let me know!**

**Now...thefinalchapter,thankyouveryMUCH!**

**-Part 5-**

"**Left Behind"**

_She dwelt among the untrodden ways_

_ Beside the spring of Dove;_

_A maid whom there were none to praise,_

_ And very few to love._

_A violet by a mossy stone_

_ Half hidden from the eye!_

_Fair as a star, when only one_

_ Is shining in the sky._

_She lived unknown, and few could know_

_ When Lucy ceased to be;_

_But she is in her grave, and O,_

_ The difference to me!_

~ William Wordsworth – "Lucy" ~

_**My insides all turned to ash**_

_**So slow**_

_**And blew away as I collapsed**_

_**So cold**_

_**A black wind took them away**_

_**From sight**_

_**And held the darkness over day**_

_**That night**_

_**And the clouds above moved closer**_

_**Looking so dissatisfied**_

_**But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing**_

~ One Week Later ~

"You're my anchor in a restless world... You are my strength and my greatest comfort..."

Barbara Knight's words seem to catch in her throat, stifling a sob as she reads a short letter she has written for this especially somber, but spectacularly beautiful, winter afternoon. Having come to Chicago to deal with her daughter's affairs, among other things, she's decided to allow Lucy's ER family to mourn with her before she returns home to lay her beloved daughter to rest. Mrs. Knight knows that this is where Lucy loved to come and decompress during a shift—whether it was rough or enlightening—because of the letters and phone conversations they had shared over the last year-and-a-half.

Watching Lucy's mother speak so openly and candidly, Robin sees so much of her daughter in Barbara's eyes. Her face. Her demeanor. Her personality. She watches the broken woman standing next to the hospital chaplain—warm tears streaking down her face, running her mascara little by little and leaving visible trails where her makeup is being washed away—and her heart shatters, if that's even possible now—for her heart froze and splintered into infinite shards on Valentine's night.

Robin braces herself as a gusty breeze whips around the small group of hospital staff gathered on the County General roof: some from surgery, some from psych, but most from the ER—Lucy's first Chicago home. This bitter wind slices and stabs Robin to her very core, which makes her wonder if this is one iota of what it felt like for Lucy...in that dark exam room...alone...waiting for someone, anyone to help her... Robin keeps her head down, knowing that her eyes will display everything that she doesn't want anyone else to see. She can feel the guilt uncoiling and tearing at her chest. With her macabre state of mind comes an undefinable coldness that chills every cell within her.

The past week has been a living hell for the young attending. Physically, she's here everyday, working, helping people, saving lives; but mentally, she's unreachable. Everyone in the ER can understand that, so they always try to bring her back—teasing, joking—but nothing, nothing touches her. She just goes along, going through the motions, but not really giving a damn. Sometimes it seems to take so long for her to take one step, say one word, lift one finger, take on breath. The gravity of her sadness—no, her depression—knows no end. She's become indifferent. She's so focused on hiding and running from everyone, including herself, that she doesn't realize she has nothing to run to, no one to anchor her, no one for whom she would abandon the shadows. The worst part is that no one close to her has any idea what happened to make her retreat inside of herself like this: so suddenly, so severely, and so permanently. The answer would seem clear enough to any stranger: Lucy's death; but no, this is something altogether unfamiliar for everyone involved—including Robin herself, or so she thinks.

And it's at this moment that Robin sees Mrs. Knight let out a gentle laugh at the thought of something Lucy told her about how bad the coffee could be on the Roach Coach. The older woman takes her eyes off of the paper in her gloved hands and looks at everyone before her, smiling widely, in a silent attempt to say, "It's okay to laugh." Collectively, they all feel as if they can breathe again, unaware that they haven't been able to until now.

Barbara's eyes connect with Robin's for a time that seems to last just a little longer than with everyone else.

Robin sees her nod a discreet reassurance in her direction—getting the "okay" to be joyful for Barbara's daughter's life. As a tear falls down her cheek, she smiles. For the first time in God knows how many days...she smiles. More tears escape as she fights her emotions, and watching Mrs. Knight look back to her short eulogy, she closes her eyes and lets them fall freely. After she takes a steadying breath, Robin realizes that the deathly cold she felt just moments ago has vanished—a glowing lovingness taking its place. Mrs. Knight's comforting words and silent consolation send her heart soaring, relieving some sort of burden from within her. Dave and Abby flanking her on either side, providing warmth and support. Robin imagines the sun, shining down on them, is Lucy's friendship; her love; her compassion.

But, most of all, her eternal grace.

_**I used to be my own protection**_

_**But not now**_

_**Cause my path had lost direction**_

_**Somehow**_

_**A black wind took you away**_

_**From sight**_

_**And held the darkness over day**_

_**That night**_

_**And the clouds above moved closer**_

_**Looking so dissatisfied**_

_**And the ground below grew colder**_

_**As they put you down inside**_

_**But the heartless wind kept blowing, blowing**_

~ 6:14 p.m. ~

News, both local and the 24-hour networks; reruns of classic television shows; slightly creepy children's educational programming, which seems like it was created by a revamped team of Sid and Marty Krofft during a bad acid trip.

Carter can't find anything on TV worth watching, so he opts for the least annoying choice and flips over to TV Land. Suddenly, he hears a knock at his door and glances up to the clock. With a slight frown, he calls out, "Come in." He sees the door open about six inches and an arm slowly poke through wiggling a Styrofoam cup. This is all he needs to know who it is, and a smile grows on his face.

"Coooooontraaaaaabaaaaaand," Robin draws out a whisper, still waving the cup in the air.

A laugh escapes from Carter's throat, probably the first genuine laugh since last week when he was talking with Abby on the rooftop. In this split second, a searing bolt of pain ripples from his back and travels through every cell in his mending body—feeling every movement with the exaggerated clarity of pain. With a wince, he says, "I'll take anything ya got."

With this, Robin elbows the door open, holding a matching cup for herself. "Good," she grins and closes the door behind her with her foot, "'cause I payed for it."

"What did ya bring me?" he asks, scooting himself up a bit in the bed.

"Vanilla milkshake, what else?" she tells him, muffled by the straw sticking in the corner of her mouth. Setting the shake on his bedside table, her warm grin immediately vanishes as she watches him struggle for the briefest moment. "Let me help ya with the pillow—"

"No, it's okay," Carter cuts her off.

Knowing how stubborn he can be, Robin raises her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright," she says. She makes sure he gets comfortable—watching in silence, wishing he wouldn't put up such a brave front for everyone—before she pulls up a chair and sits, glancing at the TV. "Can't go wrong with _Happy Days_!"

He brings the milkshake up to his lips, pauses, and lets out a melancholic chuckle, "Nope," before taking a sip.

Both doctors are pondering the bitter irony of the show title with what happened last week. Memories and echoing voices play like movies in their heads.

"_Change over to a .27 gauge needle," Carter instructed as he held Paul steady—one elbow hooked around his neck, and the other around the back of his knees, curling him into a fetal position._

"_I always do," Lucy said. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, readying herself mentally. _

_Robin, standing at the foot of the bed, watched as Lucy pierced the skin with the needle near Paul's spine. _

This, Robin thinks to herself, was the first red flag.

_Paul reacted violently—his eyes opened wide, his head arching back as he thrashed on the bed._

"_Whoa!" Carter called out to Malik for some kind of help, "Hold him! __Hold__ him!"_

"_What do I do?" Lucy asked, miraculously keeping the needle in its place the entire time._

"_Give yourself a moment," Robin told her softly as she tried to calm the hysterical man down from where she stood, placing a hand on top of his head and stroking his hair. _

"_What're you putting into me? Stop!" Paul pleaded as he fought for some kind of control over what he thought was happening to him._

"_Paul, relax, it's okay! Just calm down!" Carter tried to soothe him, "Calm down, it's alright."_

"_What're you sticking in my back?" Paul asked—his voice awkwardly muffled by the bed sheets he had his face pressed against as he writhed around._

"_Malik," Carter called, "give him another two of atavan. Lucy, keep goin'."_

"_It'll be a traumatic tap, we'll get blood in the spinal fluid," she countered._

"_I don't think it's gonna get any easier," he said with a weak smile._

_Lucy stoically pressed on, slowly inching the needle further. "Okay, I feel some resistance."_

"_Just keep advancing," Carter said, nodding in encouragement as he struggled to keep Paul as still as possible._

_Lucy glanced at Robin, who did the same, and turned her focus back to the task at hand._

_Robin watched Lucy for a moment, while still trying to calm Paul. "Keep the needle as straight as you can. There ya go," she grinned and nodded._

"_Alright, I'm not getting any fluid," she said in frustration._

"_Did you feel a pop?" Carter asked._

"_No."_

"_Keep goin'," he nodded._

_Lucy took a breath, struggling. "I can't."_

"_Yes, you __can__," he forced._

"_You're doin' great, Luce," Robin encouraged, "you've got this."_

"_Stop, please!" Paul cried out, losing his energy a bit. "You're __hurting__ me! Please, stop!"_

"_Check the stylet," Carter told her. _

_Drops of cerebrospinal fluid began to fill the collection tube Lucy held under the opening. _

_The three colleagues silently breathed a sigh of relief, and Carter tried to ease the sick man's troubled mind."Alright, we got it. Paul. Paul, just relax. Just relax. Just relax." He and Robin both examined the tube Lucy held up, and he smiled, "Hey, crystal clear. Good job."_

"_Well done, Lucy," Robin grinned, patting her young friend on the back as Lucy let out a heavy breath. "Well done."_

They were so proud of her in that moment: staying as calm as she did throughout the entire ordeal; overcoming her insecurities; and following through to get the job done.

Robin had even planned to take them both out for a congratulatory drink later that night—something that seemed so commonplace, but looking back on it now, something she would give anything to experience.

"I lied to Lucy's mother today."

Carter's voice comes out somewhat muffled, and Robin looks over to see him staring at his blanket-covered feet with his straw flattened between his teeth. The two friends seem to be mirroring each other. Robin takes her straw away—her voice sounding both unaware of what he's just said and deeply distraught. "What?"

With a deep sigh, Carter places his shake on the bedside table and lets his hands fall to his lap. He stares blankly as he fidgets with his nails. "I told her that I didn't feel anything...that I was too surprised to realize what was happening to me..."

Robin watches him start to disappear into himself, his tone eerily distant. She nods and lowers her gaze slightly. "You wanted to protect her."

"Yeah..." Carter says, shaking his head. "But she knew."

"Of _course_ she knew," Robin says with a trace of a smile, picturing Mrs. Knight crying quietly and accepting reality for what it was and still is. "She's her mother."

As a long silence passes between them—both having tuned out the sweet family dynamic of the Cunningham household—Carter's brows begin to furrow as a tinge of anger grows inside.

"How can you do that?" he asks. His voice is weak, but still agitated.

"Do what?"

Carter almost cuts her off. "How can you sit there and act like nothing happened? How can you be so _calm_ and _understanding_? Like Lucy's not _dead_ and buried—?"

"Okay, jus-just stop," Robin puts a hand up to keep him from talking. Her surprise gives way to irritation, and she reaches over to mute the TV. After settling back in her seat, she takes a breath and continues. "How can you sit there and think that you know me so well?"

Brown eyes meet hazel. Carter looks stricken with her question and is slightly taken aback at her barbed change. Her eyes were once easygoing, but now he sees something altogether different and frightening. Apathy.

Robin just sits and holds his gaze. "I know that you're hurting...physically...emotionally," she begins, "but don't you _dare_ think for a _second_ that you know what I'm feeling right now."

By the end of this, Carter knows he's touched a nerve: her eyes smolder with anger; her jaw muscles are set; her voice is gentle, and yet, it quivers with uncertainty.

"This isn't just about you and Lucy. We _all_ lost someone that night, John, and we all got hurt... It may not be in the same way you two did, but we're in pain, too." Robin pauses momentarily—running a hand through her hair—before beginning again. "After that night, I didn't sleep for three days... When I finally did sleep, I dreamed that the two of us were standing on the roof... It must've been a little after dawn, because...the sun was startin' to rise in the distance... There were a few clouds, but other than that, it was absolutely perfect," she smiles weakly. "In the dream I knew she was dead, but I reached out for her and said, 'You're comin' back, right?' She smiled...but then, she shook her head... We stood there for a while, and I noticed this black wall outta the corner of my eye. When I looked over, the wall was speeding toward us and destroying everything it touched. I looked back to Lucy, but she wasn't even phased by it. All of a sudden, she stepped toward me and put her arms around my neck and shoulders. As we stood there hugging, the darkness was so close...but I didn't care anymore. I felt safe...protected...and even sure that things were gonna be alright..." Robin seems conflicted now, her brows furrow as she gently shakes her head and frowns. Her eyes begin to burn as she recalls, "The darkness started ripping the air away...out of my lungs, and Lucy and I started to disappear. _Everything_ was bein' obliterated: buildings, water, air, the ground, and even the sun... The sheer _inertia_ of this..._thing_...was indescribable. I could feel my flesh and bones being pulled apart...down to the very cell. But Lucy was there, and that was all that mattered. When we were both gone...that's when I woke up. The force of whatever that was in my dream shook me to my very core...

"And that's when I knew...I'm afraid. I'm afraid of him...of myself... I thought about killing myself a thousand different ways... I think about cutting myself, like I used to do in high school and college. I even dream about it," she admits, and then, shakes the thoughts away. "I wanna kill him. I wanna kill him for what he did to Lucy; for what he did to you; for what he did to all of us... I wanted to smack his wife when I saw her downstairs and say, 'You _fuckin' _bitch. You _knew_ somethin' was wrong with him, but you didn't lift a damn finger to prevent _any_ of this.'" Shaking her head incessantly, she takes a breath and realizes that she's on the verge of tears.

"It's my fault Lucy's dead..." Carter squeaks out.

"No. No, it's not—" Robin tells him. She sees him about to protest and calmly stops him. "We're all blameless...and we're all to blame... There were red flags goin' up everywhere, man.

"Mrs. Sobriki could've seen the signs that Paul was ill. She didn't. Lucy could've come to me or Mark when she couldn't get past your bullshit about patients piling up and you just bein' _irritated_ with her for whatever reason. She didn't. Psych could've gotten their asses down there when Lucy called 'em the _first_ time. They didn't.

"You could've actually _listened_ to your med student like you were _supposed_ to. You could've guided, encouraged, and _taught_ her—case in point, the LP you helped her through—but you avoided her like the fuckin' _plague_ the entire shift and spent all your time mentoring Abby. _You_ could've been the mentor Lucy needed that night. You weren't."

Robin stops, knowing that she's focused all of her harsh criticism on Carter so far. Now, she decides to go for the jugular: herself. "I could've been more attentive to the situation. I could've checked on her progress more often. I could've helped you manage your patient load more easily... I could've pulled you _both_ aside to help settle whatever your problems were... I should—" she suddenly realizes her choice of words are changing, but she shakes her head and powers through. "I should've gone up to Psych and _dragged_ DeRadd down _myself_... I should've done something about the feeling I had after the tap... I _knew_ somethin' wasn't right...I could _**feel**_ it... I should've _seen_. I should've _felt_. I should've _heard_. I should've _taken_ the _time_. I should've _known_..." Robin's eyes are clamped shut, but tears escape despite the fact. Her brows are knotted. She shakes her head, not stopping, as she pictures everything that transpired and everything that could have been. After a short time, she lets out a breath, opens her eyes, and stares down at her hands. "I should've been there for the two of you...and for the Sobrikis... I should've done my job," she confesses, looking up to Carter's apologetic, tear-filled eyes. "I didn't...and I'm so sorry for that, John."

Her eyes manage to convey support, admiration, sympathy, friendship, and encouragement without saying another word.

The two long-time friends sit in silence, their cheeks stained with tears of regret and forgiveness. They haven't really had the opportunity to talk about what's happened with each other until this moment...even though it was Robin who's done most of the talking. Carter doesn't mind though, because she actually said everything he wanted to express.

"It's not your fault either," he says, exhaustion lacing his quiet, forgiving words. He's tremendously grateful that his mentor has taken the pain of making his worries and insecurities known from off of his strained shoulders.

Robin gives him a small, unsure grin at his kind words. Her thoughts go back to that night, right after the spinal tap, when she wanted to take her two young colleagues out for a small celebration.

"What?" Carter questions with a quirky smirk as he watches Robin let out a silent laugh at something.

"Y'know..." she starts off, "I was gonna take you two out for some drinks that night. You were a great teacher in that room. You saw that she was struggling, and you encouraged her to stick it out and get the job done... You were a team, and you got through it together... I'm proud of both of you..." Robin clears her throat quickly, adding, "And I wouldn't mind seeing more teaching like that in the future!"

Carter smiles at the memory, picking up his milkshake and holding it up ever so slightly—watching Robin follow his cue. "Since these are the only drinks we have, we'll have to make due," he giggles. His mood becomes woeful and tormented in the blink of an eye. "Lucy,...I told your mother today that you were better than I ever gave you credit for... I meant every word that I said... I just wish I could've let you know sooner... You were smart, funny, passionate...courageous, relentless...and beautiful..." he sighs—a sighing which tells only of despair's profoundest depths. Robin grins as he continues. "You had the most beautiful heart and soul I'd ever known... There was something about you that...everyone felt, and saw...and drifted toward... You were all those things and more...and you will always be." He looks to Robin as a tear trickles down his face; and with a warm smile and a nod, he concludes, "To Lucy... We love you...and we miss you."

As a tear of her own drops and soaks into her shirt, Robin draws in a deep breath while she reaches over and taps her Styrofoam cup lightly against Carter's.

For a fleeting second, her mind plagues her with flashbacks of that night; but it's the blood that makes her heart sink. From her two dear friends it kept flowing, as if to taunt her. _"I don't think so, Dr. Shepherd. You can't save them. Neither can you save yourself." _

She settles back, and finally, she feels as though she can breathe again, barely whispering, "We love you, Lucy."

_**So now you're gone**_

_**And I was wrong**_

_**I never knew what it was like**_

_**To be alone**_

_**On a Valentine's Day**_

_**On a Valentine's Day**_

_**On a Valentine's Day**_

_**On a Valentine's Day **_

_**On a Valentine's Day (I used to be my own protection)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (But not now)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (Cause my mind had lost direction)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (Somehow)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (I used to be my own protection)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (But not now)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (Cause my mind has lost direction)**_

_**On a Valentine's Day (Somehow)**_

**The song in bold is Linkin Park's "Valentine's Day." The first time I listened to it, it made me cry because of what happened on ER. If you haven't heard it, I strongly suggest you listen to it. Great song! Every second I was writing this story, I played this song over and over on repeat (even as I'm writing this)!**

**Like I said, let me know if you want something else from me! Thank you all for reading/reviewing/favoriting/alerting this story. I would love it if you sent me a little review after you read this. Let me know what you liked, didn't like, and so on! Love you all!**

**Alright! Show me some love! 3**


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